Time Again
by GeekyGingerGirl
Summary: Amy and Rory believed they were stuck in New York City, in the past, for the rest of their lives. However, Clara Oswald has different ideas. She's the Impossible Girl- why can't they be impossible too?
1. Chapter 1

There it was again. That wonderful, grinding squeal, the best sound in the universe. Amy's eyes opened, and there was that familiar, achingly gorgeous moment of hope, before the silent same-ness of the world came crashing down around her once more. She took a few shaky breaths and rolled over as a few tears slipped down her cheek. Rory shifted in his sleep, moving close to her, as if by instinct, and soon she too was asleep.

She woke again with the yellow-white light of morning streaming in through the curtains of their flat. Rory was already up, putting on his suit jacket and tie. "Morning," she croaked, and dragged herself out of bed.

"Morning, love," he said, smiling and giving her a soft kiss. "You sleep alright?"

"Yeah. You?" she responded, perhaps too shortly.

"Well, I suppose. Ready for your second day?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Not really. And the worst part is the bloody outfit I have to wear." Amy missed the freedom of her standard mini-skirt and leather jacket attire; the acceptable clothing in 1939 was modest to say the least. But what she hated even more were the stares she got her first few days in New York. Tall, outspoken, red-headed Scottish females wearing clothes from over 60 years into the future and occasionally crying didn't exactly blend in with the locals.

"Cheer up. It's not so bad."

Amy felt the tears of rage building up inside her again. She knew she was acting like a child, but she felt so helpless. Rory was adjusting so well- he had a job as a doctor at one of the city's hospitals now; he'd gotten it easily with his calm, kind attitude and 21st century knowledge. Amy, however, had nearly thrown a fit when she received the only acceptance letter from the many jobs she'd applied for. She was writing an advice column for an inconsequential paper. But it looked as though she wouldn't get anything better, being a woman. It all seemed so unfair. Why couldn't the angel have sent them forward in time? Or even back further…she could have seen Vincent Van Gogh again, maybe actually saved him this time. She could have lived with, well, her other husband- King Henry VII. On second thought, maybe not that option. She did like her head in the position it was in now.

"Amy…please try to be happy?" Rory said, sounding almost as helpless as she felt.

"It's easy for you, everybody bloody loves you," she growled.

He stopped suddenly and took her by the shoulders. "Amy. You think this is easy for me?"

She looked away, shrugging. She knew it wasn't easy for either of them, but he was so much better at…people stuff.

His voice broke. "Amy, we left our families and home. I'll never see Dad again, or our friends, or- or my horrible Great Aunt Enid, or anyone. But crying and moping every day isn't going to change that. I just have to keep my head up, and not think about it too much."

"So you're running away from it," she said.

He gave a shaky little laugh. "You're one to talk! You spent weeks gallivanting around space and time on the night before our wedding! And kissing space aliens!"

Now they were both laughing and crying. "Kissing people was my job for years!" she protested.

"Yeah, but a 900 year old alien?"

"I'm sorry! Now I have to get dressed."

Rory smiled at her. "I'll put some tea on."


	2. Chapter 2

Amy set out for work on foot, as usual. She spied a newspaper vendor and bought one. It was only on the third page that Hitler and what she knew was to soon become war were mentioned. _"Britain Becomes Frustrated with Hitler's Tactics," _it read. Her stomach turned and she felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Not only was she stuck in a foreign country in a different century, she was stuck in a foreign country that would soon be at war; and a country that seemed oblivious to that fact.

She almost ran into a man on the street- he shoved past her, muttering something under his breath. Amy did her own muttering. "Bloody New Yorkers."

She approached her new office building with mounting trepidation. She stopped outside for a second, then took a breath and entered. She rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, and stepped through the door into the newspaper room. She held her breath to avoid the heavy cigar smoke, and ducked inside her tiny, closet-like office, past the men in suits clacking away on typewriters. As soon as she was settled in, a knock came at Amy's door.

Betsy, one of Amy's annoying, peppy coworkers, and one of the three total women working for the paper, stuck her head in. "Here's yesterday's letters, Amy. Can you get through half before lunch?"

Amy sighed. "Yeah, sure. I can manage." She repeated it to herself once as Betsy left. _"I can manage."_

She hurried out of work at 4:30 that afternoon, having remained in the office all day without lunch. As she rounded a corner, she thought she heard the noise again, the moans of a dying whale, the brakes of the TARDIS, but quickly pushed the thought from her mind. _It's over now. This is life. Rory is the only doctor I need._

With her head down, Amy didn't notice the woman coming towards her, and the woman, whose face was hidden behind a large map, didn't notice either. They collided at high speed, and Amy stumbled back into the nearest street sign.

"Sorry!" the young woman called, and Amy was surprised by the British-ness of the voice.

"S'alright," Amy said. This was the first voice from her country she had heard since they left the Doctor and River. An American would not have been so easily forgiven.

"Legs! You're legs woman!" the girl said suddenly.

"Excuse me?" she replied, annoyed.

"Sorry but…it is you, isn't it? You knew the Doctor?"

Amy felt the blood draining from her face and she slid down the pole to the pavement. _It can't be. It can't be. It's just another past companion, also abandoned. It isn't._

The other woman frowned and hurried to Amy's side, bright brown eyes concerned. People brushed by on the street, crowding, jostling, but there was just the two of them. Amy blurrily recognized the outfit the girl was wearing- it was a 1940's era suit, and she had seen it in the TARDIS wardrobe before, but found it too short and wide at the bust.

"Are you alright?" the girl asked.

"Who are you?" Amy demanded.

"Um, Clara Oswald. You do know the Doctor, don't you?"

"I- I did, yeah."

"I travel with him," Clara smiled.

_Travel. Present tense._

"How are you here? Did he fly the TARDIS in? How- isn't…."

"Yes, the TARDIS is right outside of city limits. For some reason he didn't want to come in. Are you sure you're alright? Do you want to see him?"

"Yes," Amy whispered. For the second time that day, she was crying. "I want to. I want to so much. But I can't."

"Why not?" Clara replied.

"It's impossible. It'll create some sort of paradox. It could blow up the whole city—I- I don't know. It's just impossible."

Clara laughed. "You know who you've just met? Legs woman, I am the impossible girl. And you're coming with me."


	3. Chapter 3

Clara dragged Amy at top speed along the streets.

"Wait, it might not work! We could all die," Amy protested.

Clara stared her in the eye. "Do you want to see him? Or do you want to spend your life miserable in 1940? Because the miniskirt in that picture sure as hell wasn't from here. You're from my time, and I don't think you want to be here."

"What picture?"

"On the TARDIS' records. I saw all the previous companions. What's your name, anyways?"

"Amy. Amy P- Williams."

"You're Amy! Of course!" the other woman cried.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, just…I needed to reach something with my foot, and the Doctor said he missed you in that sort of situation," Clara blushed.

"Does everyone seriously know me just by the length of my legs?" Amy asked, annoyed. "That's when he _missed_ me?"

"Well, when I first met him…it was different. He was depressed, I think."

"Depressed? The Doctor?"

"_I_ didn't actually meet him during the worst of it, but he's told me stories. He lived up on a cloud for months, barely coming down."

Amy snorted. "That sounds more like him."

Clara laughed too. "For most people, living on a cloud would be a high point!"

"Oh God, I've missed him. And the adventures. I miss the bloody running! I never thought I'd miss running down a corridor at top speed, being shot at by aliens."

"We could run faster now?" Clara suggested. "Get back in the habit?"

The other woman grinned. "You're already going plenty fast. And in 5-inch heels? How do you manage?"

"I ran in 8-inch ones last week. He is awfully tall compared to me, you know."

As they broke into a run, laughing like little girls, the two companions slowly left the city, with its skyscrapers and honking taxis. They slowed as they made their way over a hill and saw the little blue structure on the other side. The wood paneling, the light aglow at the top, the sign that read 'Pull to Open'…. Amy stood staring, as if it was a ghost. Clara supposed, in a way, it was.

Amy slowly approached the box and reached out a hand to stroke it. She couldn't believe it. She was here- _he _was here- and there was no paradox. No explosion, or ruination of the universe. The door opened, and there he stood. Only, it wasn't him.


	4. Chapter 4

He wasn't the Doctor. But somehow, she knew he was. He had the same mad gleam in his eye, but this man's gleam was even madder. And he was older, with a shock of grey hair and some shocking grey eyebrows. And when he spoke, he sounded- Scottish?

"No. Not possible. Another hallucination." He hit himself on the head and slammed the TARDIS door on Amy. She stood stunned, unable to speak.

Clara shot a face that said, 'Sorry, he's a bit mad,' at Amy, and pushed the door open again.

"Doctor, it's not a hallucination," Clara cajoled. "It's Amy. Your old companion. She's here!"

He looked back and forth between the young women out of the corner of his eye. "No," he said hoarsely.

"Yes," Amy said, crying yet again.

"Amelia?" he whispered. And then they were hugging, clinging to each other as if no time had passed, as if a thousand years had. And for one of them, it had.

"But you're…you're not _you_," she said.

"Amelia Pond, I am more me than ever. And you- are you ready for another adventure?"

She smiled through the tears. "Yes, Doctor. But- how am I here? Why didn't you come for us?"

He stiffened and his face went dark. "It was supposed to be a paradox. I don't know how we're alive, with you being here. Amy, if I killed you trying to get you back I would never have forgiven myself."

"You would have been dead too!"

He ignored her and pulled the companions into the TARDIS. "Clara, you should not have done this. But I'm glad you did. We'll pick up Rory, then-"

The Doctor was cut off as a loud crack rent the air and the TARDIS jolted and seemed to fall straight downwards. They were flung across the console, Clara letting out a shriek as they landed with a thump and all the lights went out. Amy huddled in the corner; eyes squeezed shut, frantic as if in a fervor of piety. "I should have got Rory. We're going to die and it's my fault and I should be here with Rory. He can't die. Please just let the paradox get me."

"No, if this is a paradox it's my fault," Clara said grimly.

"Girls, girls. Shut up. That was no paradox," the Doctor said sharply.

"So what _was_ it?" she asked, voice shrill.

"Let's just say I'm very eager to find out."

The three cautiously approached the door, the Doctor carrying his screwdriver in one hand and a silver spoon in the other.

"You're sure it's not a paradox? We're going to be okay?" Amy said.

"Yes, and I have no idea," he cackled.

Another bang sounded and they jumped. "Are we going out or not?" Clara asked. The others glanced at each other, nodded, and Amy pushed the door open.

They were on the same hill, with the same grass and the same road. But just in front of the box, a solitary stone angel stood, a wicked grin on its face.


	5. Chapter 5

Amy screamed, but it was more out of frustration than actual fear.

"What's wrong?" Clara asked, confused.

"Don't blink," the Doctor said. "You remember on Christmas, the statues in the snow? This is one of them. And it's not just going to grab your ankle if it gets you."

"Nice trick, isn't it?" the voice coming from around the TARDIS was smooth and low. The weeping angel toppled and fell as it was dragged on a chain away from the box. The three inside the TARDIS glanced at each other, frozen, but quickly looked back to the statue.

"Who is that?" Amy hissed.

"Oh, just an old friend, Doc. You can look away if you want. It's not going to _bite_ you," the voice cackled. The voice's owner was closer now, but still unseen. None of the three took their eyes off the angel.

"Doctor…" Clara said.

"Name yourself!" the Doctor called.

"No, I want to see how long it takes for you to _figure. It. Out._"

"Show your face, then," the Doctor said.

"Oh, I don't think that's going to help." A tall, slender man in a pinstriped suit stepped out from around the box. His dark hair was greased back, and he wore an energetic grin on his face. It was quite plain to both companions that the Doctor had no idea who it was.

"What was the angel for? It doesn't scare me, you know," Amy said boldly.

"I thought companions were supposed to be observant! You take this one, Doc," the man said.

"Well. We aren't in quite the same place as when we left. No, wrong word. I get them all confused- they're the same thing, really, though, aren't they?"

"Doctor," Clara said. "Rambling."

"Sorry. Nothing wrong with rambling, though, is there?"

"Doctor," sighed Amy.

"We aren't in the same time. Sort of in the same place, though. Look, the city isn't there anymore, is it? Just forest. But the angel couldn't have done that…"

"My ruthless brilliance plus the angel's natural abilities and evolutionary prowess could," the strange man said.

"You transported the TARDIS through time by the touch of a _weeping angel_?" the Doctor was incredulous.

"Yes, and it only took three years to plan. The blink of an eye for you and me."

"Time Lord?" Amy muttered in the Doctor's ear, too quiet for Clara to hear on the other side of him.

"If it is that means-" he whispered back.

"Your pretty little friend seems to be on to something, Doc. Whaddya think? _Am I_?"

"I thought you were the only Time Lord, except for the ones stuck on Gallifrey," Clara said.

"I thought Gallifrey was gone and you _were_ the only Time Lord!" Amy butted in. "And how does he keep hearing me when I whisper?"

"I forgot you didn't know! I saved it, with the help of Miss Oswald here," the Doctor said.

"Now is really not the time for catching up between friends. Now, Doctor. Answer me this. Who am I?"

"If you are a Time Lord, I know who you are. But I don't know how you lived, or even if you are a Time Lord. It couldn't be him…no. Impossible. And I suppose if you are a Time Lord, I still don't really know for sure," the Doctor paced around the TARDIS, fingers pressed to his temples and staring at the floor. Suddenly, his head shot up. "Do you hear it?" he asked.

The man grinned.

"Hear what?" Clara asked. The Doctor pointed wildly at the man, whose fingers were drumming idly on his pant leg.

"His fingers. _Taptap tap tap. Taptap tap tap. _ The sound of drums."

**WARNING: The following note may contain SPOILERS FOR _DARK WATER_- Don't read if you don't want to see them!**

*********I really don't know if I will continue from here, given that the BBC and I had rather similar ideas about the next villain our Doctor should face...I really have appreciated all your reviews and everything, but I probably won't write any more of this particular story.*********


End file.
